The Advancement of The Volcano

About Me

Thursday, 6 June 2013

Lifting her face towards the warm stream of water, she moans
quietly as the warm water runs down her perfectly made-up face, not smudging
her mascara at all. The water makes her nipples hard, and she gives them a
playful tweak as she slowly and seductively runs her hands over her soapy body.
Accidentally dropping her shampoo
bottle, she sucks her index finger as she bends to retrieve it, before noting
its extremely erotic phallic shape. This is something that she has never
noticed before, and considers its merits, before inserting it in her…

In reality, it goes something like this. According to a
friend, of course:

Stepping into the shower, she realises that she has
forgotten to put on her shower cap, and the water squirts violently at her
yesterday-washed hair. Cursing the time this will add to her schedule, she
gives up and sticks her head and face under the shower, allowing the water to
smudge last night’s mascara down her blotchy face. Someone in another room
thinks it is ok to turn on a tap, or flush the toilet, as long as they do it
slowly, or deny it after. The water slows to a trickle, before turning boiling
hot. She quickly steps out of the shower stream, but it is not good enough. The
water pressure suddenly returns, shooting her full pelt in the tits with a
force that nearly knocks her off her feet. Positioning herself back under the
shower, she notes with dismay that the sudden hosing-down has dislodged a hair
above her nipple that had previously gone unnoticed. She knows that she has to
remove this hair immediately, for once it is out of sight, it will be out of
mind, and she will then run the risk of her partner finding it. She looks
around for an implement with which she can safely remove the bastard hair. A
razor is no good; it will grow back pointy. Eventually she decides that she has
no choice but to attempt to remove it using her fingernails. After two minutes
of failed attempts at grabbing it, succeeding only in painfully pinching her
nipple instead, she manages to secure it between her nails. She pulls with all
her might, then looks in horror as the hair stays attached, yet now behaves a
little like a piece of curling ribbon.

Giving up on that particular venture, she decides to de-hair
everywhere else that she requires to be smooth. To do this, she needs amazing
athletic prowess. The positions she needs to adopt are listed below:

Standing on one leg

Standing, ankles together, knees apart, head between legs.

Standing, one leg on side of bath, one hand pulling one
buttock cheek over and up, razor in other hand.

Standing, trying to flatten and straighten wobbly body part
with one hand, whilst shaving it with a razor in the other.

Sitting, crying, as blood trickles from her mutilated
kneecaps.

She achieves all of the above, and examines her new,
hair-free body with pride. One stubborn hair remains on the inside of her
thigh. Grabbing the razor, she makes an attempt to remove this, but it moves
out of the razor’s reach at the very last second. The swipe, move, swipe, move,
swipe, move, swipe, move routine lasts for approximately three minutes, until
she eventually gives up.

As her hair is already wet, she decides to shampoo it.
Reaching for the shampoo bottle, she knocks it with her hand and it falls off
the side of the bath onto her foot. Screaming,
‘Fuckingshampoobloodypainwank,’she hops from foot to foot, before shampooing
her hair with tea tree shower gel. Realising that she has left her hair
conditioner over the other side of the bathroom, she makes the executive
decision to remain in the shower and not use any. From experience, she knows
this is a decision she will regret in ten minutes, when her hair has dried and
is sticking up in the air and sideways at exactly the same time.

She turns off the taps, but is not quite coordinated enough
to turn both off simultaneously. The hot shuts off immediately, whilst the cold
continues to stream, stinging her bloodied knees and squirting in her eyes.
Screaming and blinded, she attempts to escape. The slippery surface and lack of
sight make this an impossibility and she slips, falling astride a phallic
shaped shampoo bottle…

Saturday, 14 July 2012

The chief executive of G4S today admitted that he has just realised he does not have enough security guards to cover the London Olympics.

G4S won the contract bid in 2010, the conditions of which were to supply 2,000 security staff at Olympic venues, a figure which rose to 10,000 in 2011, at request of Games organisers.

‘It’s all gone terribly, terribly wrong,’ Mr Buckles said earlier today. ‘I found the whole thing rather confusing from the beginning, if I’m honest. The only way I could cope with such magnificently large numbers was to separate each number the Olympics people sent to me into gazillions, trillions, millions, hundreds of thousands, tens of thousands, thousands, hundreds, tens and units. Somewhere along the line, someone rubbed out all the columns preceding the thousands column, which sadly discombobulated me.’

Approximately 110,000 people applied for the advertised post, but due to the confusion with the columns, only seven were interviewed. ‘The interview process was extraordinarily complex, and rather tiresome,’ said Mr Buckles. ‘Each applicant had to be able to spell their name, effectively communicate in English, and be able to stand with their hands loosely clasped in front of them, their chin raised in a defiant manner, whilst throwing a menacing stare. Sadly, all the applicants we eventually recruited failed on the clasping of the hands. Some even toppled over. Don’t worry though. I have phoned the army.’
Karina Evans 2012

Sunday, 17 June 2012

Take That frontman, Gary Barlow, has become an OBE in the Queen’s birthday honours list. The 41-year-old singer, songwriter, TV personality and lead organiser of the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee celebrations found worldwide success with pop group, Take That, in the 1990s.Gary, who is a singer, songwriter, TV personality and lead organiser of the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee celebrations, is delighted at the honour. ‘I am delighted. Previous to this OBE, I was just a singer, songwriter, TV personality and lead organiser of the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee celebrations. It is all happening for me now, I am practically Simon Cowell. I have been trying to earn an OBE for weeks, ever since remembering that it is possible to get one for being helpful and kind.’Gary, who is a singer, songwriter, TV personality and lead organiser of the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee celebrations, wrote most of Take That’s songs, except the ones ripped off from Barry Manilow, The Bee Gees and Dan Hartman. Barlow’s song-writing career peaked with an Ivor Novello award for the 1994 song, Pray, the lyrics of which are now apt in their emotion, with Barlow crooning ‘I’m so cold and all alone,’ a quote he has recently admitted to being directed at Her Majesty. ‘I just wanted a hug, really,’ Barlow admits. ‘I am a singer, songwriter, TV personality and lead organiser of the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee celebrations. I first clapped eyes on Her Majesty at a Royal Variety performance during Take That’s heyday. Nobody could possibly be warmer or more refined than Elizabeth, I could tell this from afar. When I tied myself up in the Pray video, I was tying myself up for her. When the guys wore hot-pants, yet I wore a suit, it was not because I was the fat, ugly one; it was because I am a singer, songwriter, TV personality and lead organiser of the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee celebrations and I was thinking of Liz and wanted to cover my erection. I am delighted. Not once has Elizabeth mentioned ‘Forever Love,’ or ‘Love Won’t Wait.’ No man is an island. I am a winner.’

Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Sunday, 20 May 2012

Co-founder and CEO of Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, today married his girlfriend in an 'intimate backyard ceremony.'The couple tricked their family and friends into thinking the event was to mark the graduation of Zuckerberg's then girlfriend, Priscilla Chan. 'Mark created an event and added us to the guest list,' said one shocked wedding guest. 'I almost didn't go; I felt a bit tired and had run out of coffee LOL and felt a bit down and that, but someone said 'aww hun don't let em get you down ur betta than that,' so I went. I'm glad I did. There was a lot of food. I took photos of it and I shall post them on Facebook later so everyone can be sure I'm not hungry. ROFL.'Mark and Priscilla poked each other thirteen times during the ceremony, which occurred a day after Facebook shares were floated on the stock exchange. The shares, disappointingly, closed just above the offering price of $38 a share, something which 28 year-old Mark is a bit annoyed about. 'Im a bit annoyed about the share thing lol,' said Mark last night. 'I expected them to make me richer than rich which is how rich I currently am. PMSL. Hugz? BRB. I'm off to 'like' my wife who 'likes' my shares. Do you have shares? They're there. How do you spell their? Their shares. They are shares. There shares. Their there they're. LOOOL.'Karina Evans 2012

Sunday, 13 May 2012

Foreign Secretary William Hague has suggested that businesses ‘pull their socks up and send more stuff abroad.’ Mr Hague, in an interview with the Sunday Telegraph, stated that the UK should implement a brand new growth strategy, involving, not least, a higher production of goods and exportation.

‘We, as a country, need to reorientate,’ laughed Mr Hague. ‘I am painfully aware that Microsoft Word 2010 does not think ‘reorientate’ is actually a proper word, but I know it is. It is my word-baby. Try it on Scrabble, you could earn upwards of eleven points if placed correctly.’

Mr Hague, dressed as a school-teacher, also hollered that we need to ‘do more with less,’ stating this is the way to rescue the work ethic. He bellowed: ‘people need to learn to not really listen to me. I make stuff up. Businesses need to send stuff abroad. Everyone should leave on a jet-plane, taking their stuff with them. They should sell it, make money, make twice as much money, give money to me. Toilet roll could be sent abroad. You get twice as much toilet roll as you think, you know.’ Mr Hague demonstrated how to pull apart a two-ply sheet of tissue, before shouting: ‘your finger may go through it, but who cares? We don’t, not if it is sent abroad. Finger up arse. I am not the Foreign Secretary for nothing. Gobbledegook. Also, we could send watered-down ketchup and dried-out teabags. Teabags. Teabagging. I am not a gay. My throat is sore.’